Lysander von Ascania
Unwritten Verse
The Narcolethe did more than just hit him; it was more like being ambushed. Another wave rolled through his chest, and somehow, hotter than the first. His tongue went numb, fingertips sparked with sensation, and even the bridge of his nose buzzed strangely. Anywhere but this club, such symptoms would have probably sent him scrambling for medical attention. Something close to a laugh and cough escaped him.
Lysander’s eyelids shuttered closed then open.. a humble effort to keep Naniti from multiplying into twins.
Then a glass tapped his chest, and her words threaded through the haze again. The next time he looked at the Togruta, his brain felt too fuzzy to arrange his face into something clever. His eyebrows just did whatever they wanted, mouth hanging slightly open, the club lights catching the black pools of his eyes.
Out of pure reflex, fingers twitched toward the curved hilt within the folds of his jacket before that thought fizzled entirely, discovering the back of her hand instead. Some invisible force drew him forward before conscious thought could intervene. Miscalculating the proximity, his nose bumped against Naniti’s cheek. “Just.. stay with me a moment.”
He eased back just a little, enough to draw a fresh breath. The dance floor was close, more a rise of bodies than some distinct area. Something they could step into at any time.
The next laugh was helpless. “Alright.. I think I just leveled up.” Lysander glanced toward the crowds, then back to her face. “.. this is a little like Jurand. When you’re near, I can do anything.”
“Shall we?”